Once Upon a December
by Lucille Lucy
Summary: <html><head></head>Violet Crawley, the Dowager Countess of Grantham is suddenly faced with a part of her past, that she had kept secret for 50 years. With the visit of the Russian Prince Kuragin, memories have started to stir, and she is suddenly forced to deal with her own emotions, which is not something she is used to. Love, regret, pain and even lust is lurking under the surface.</html>
1. Memories Awake

**Once Upon a December**

Chapter 1

There was no doubt about it; Violet had been taken completely by surprise at Rose's luncheon and for the first time, since she could remember, had she found it hard to keep her head straight at the dining table. Isobel had of course sent her teasing looks all through lunch, and had not let up as they drove home. Violet couldn't expect much else, and even though she had grown used to her's and Isobel's teasing back and forth, this time was different. She didn't care for her glances, or the vulgar and improper assumptions she and Mary had sent her way. There had been no such thing going on between her and the Prince. It was all very respectable, as it should be, and even if Violet had ever had impure thoughts, she was merely a young woman of 22, and of course the minds of such young girls tend to wonder.. Don't they? Anyway, when she was in Russia, Rosamund was still a baby and she was happily and newly wed to her husband, Lord Grantham with whom she was very much in love with, and that was the end of that story. Or at least that is what she kept saying to herself.

When Violet was finally in the privacy of her own sitting room, her mind drifted back to 50 years earlier in the snow covered landscape surrounding St. Petersburg. Patrick had spent the last month trying to convince her to join him for the wedding, and she had hesitated strongly, since Robert was only two and a half and Rosamund still an infant. She couldn't bear to leave them for such a long time, but even though Violet for once showed her more human and even maternal side, she was also a pragmatic and a true lady, who found the outlooks of the family very important, and she knew that meant being at her husband's side, wherever he might go. Violet sipped her brandy, and as she felt the warmth of the fireplace on her face, she was taken back to the hot ballroom that night. She had looked at the dancing couples, which included her husband and the Russian Princess, and she had begun to feel the discomfort of her corset, in the hot room. She found it hard to breath and tried the best she could, not to get dizzy. As the orchestra played glories waltzes by Strauss, and the glittering gold chandeliers reflected themselves in the glistening floor, a tall dark man approached her with a fan in his hand. "I thought you might need this, Lady Grantham" He said and bowed slightly when he handed her the fan. His accent was thick and his voice hard, yet to Violet it sounded like velvet. She thanked him and gave herself a few waves, but when she spotted her husband's happy face on the dance floor, she gave the man a rare embarrassed look and stuffed it into her réticule. "I'm sorry. Thank you very much, your highness. I think I'd better hide it though, I wouldn't want to insult Lord Grantham" She said with a hint of mischief in her voice. He smiled at her, and for a moment they simply stood side by side and watched all the couples dance. Suddenly, the heat didn't bother her so much.

The sound of the wooden clock brought her back to the present. She had been staring at the fire for so long, and lost track of time. Prince Kuragin and his company would no doubt be staying for more than a few days, and Violet had a feeling she would need sleep to face what was about to come. She wasn't sure if what she felt was excitement or fright. After all there were stories of her time in St. Petersburg, which she had kept to herself for 50 years, and would like it to remain so. However, after being confronted with a time of her life, she hadn't in her wildest dreams thought she ever would, she wasn't sure she could keep her secret. Especially not now, that both Mary and Isobel would surely dig deep to get some answers. The problem was, that she wasn't sure if she was ready to give them. Even to herself.


	2. The Way He Looked At Me

Once Upon a December

Chapter 2

The afternoon was kind today. The sun lit up Violet's well furnished drawing room and fell over her face, as she was finishing today's letters, before she had to go up to the house for lunch. She knew the question of the nature of her relationship with the Russian prince would arise, and she prepared herself mentally. She knew she would probably have to confess some of the truth to Isobel, as she in all likelihood would find out anyway, but she fully intended to keep quiet about it to the family. Her position in the family was simply too important.

When Isobel came in the car to fetch her, she was completely ready for any question or implying remark. If there was one thing she was good at, it was to keep a straight face and a convincing attitude. Surprisingly enough Isobel didn't mention anything about it, until Violet brought it up in the car. "Would you join me in York later this afternoon? To go see the Russians?" Isobel looked at her surprised, not annoyingly so, but genuinely interested. "I will if you want me to. Why particularly?" Violet kept her eyes out the window as they arrived at the famous driveway; "We'll talk about it later".

Lunch was as excepted. Robert, of course, had to bring it up. "How is your old beau, Mama?" She could have knocked him off his chair, but chose to laugh it off. Another one of her famous knacks.

"Your father would have turned out any one who ever said such a thing!". Indeed he would, she thought. If there was one thing Patrick couldn't cope with, it was vulgar or improper suggestions, especially about his wife. It was a quality that had both left her feeling slightly frightened and wonderfully proud in the past. The rest of lunch seemed endless as, even if she would never admit this to anyone, she was rather anxious about seeing Kuragin again.

Isobel could of course not keep her curiosity at bay, as they were making their way to the church in York. "Why didn't you tell them we were coming here today? They'll know anyway once Rose gets back", "I didn't want it to be a topic for the rest of luncheon!" Violet answered sharply. The crypt was dark and damp and Violet felt a pang of sympathy as she saw how these once nobel folk, were huddled into spaces smaller than.. well she hardly knew what to think. Rose greeted them, but she hardly saw her. Her eyes were scanning the room, and it didn't take long for her to locate him. Her heart sank. The last time she had come to see him, his toned face was lit by the light of crystal chandeliers and he was surrounded by glorious pictures in golden frames. Now here he was, in a damp crypt of a local church, with nothing but the donated clothes he stood in and the small trace of royal dignity that somehow showed in the way he held his posture. "There he is" Violet was primarily speaking to herself, as she hardly believed what she was seeing, and she held her breath as he extended his arm to her. He took her hand. The hand she hadn't touched in 50 years. The last time she had, it had been in goodbye. Goodbye for ever, or so she had thought. "I must be the last person you expected to see" she said. "No, I thought you would come" His voice was still as dark and creamy as it had been those many years ago. Violet didn't know how to interpret that sentence. He had known? Surely he couldn't have. Things had changed. They hadn't seen or been in contact with each other for a lifetime, how could he be sure she had even the slightest concern for him now? But his eyes and the way they looked at her hadn't changed in those years. It had been long, yes, and yet a part of her felt it odd, only to greet him in a handshake, when she thought of how they last had greeted each other. Violet shook her head of any of those thoughts. She had come to kill her curiosity and perhaps even to clear her conscience. She had to know what he had meant, when he said he didn't know the whereabouts of the princess. Her memories of her were not the fondest, of course, but the thought of her being killed or savaged somewhere, were still not a thought she could quite live with. After all, to ask about her, was the least she could do. He looked at her, with a mix of amusement and pain as they talked about his wife. He knew exactly what she was thinking, and her reasons for asking, and he couldn't help adore her for it. Heaven knows, he had never been in love with Irina, but he did love her, and he loved that Violet knew that, and took it in account.

Back at the house, Violet had finally let Isobel in on some of the truth. She had told her that he had wanted her to run away with him, and how she had finally seen sense when Patrick had given her the Faberge frame with the pictures of the children in it. But she hadn't told her the full story. She didn't find it necessary, and quite honestly she didn't think Isobel would understand. No, she didn't tell her that she was only inches away from creating the biggest scandal of the century.

The night fell slowly, and all Violet could think of as she sat by the fire, was how the glow of his eyes had quite gone out down in that horrid crypt. "Where is the handsome and powerful Prince Kuragin? With his thousands of archers and his golden palaces? That man does not exist. Not anymore." The archers and palaces might have gone she thought, but the man did exist. Very much so. The way he made her feel, that hadn't changes. And he was still powerful, for he still had the same power over her, as he had those many years ago.

… "_So you've decided than?" His voice was filled with anxiety and hope, and even if her whole body was shaking with nerves, she couldn't hide the fact, that she had never been more happy or sure of anything in her life. "I have" she said, smiling at him. His embrace was rough and passionate, and quite different than any embrace she had ever been in before. It was his way, and it was dangerous and exciting. She found that she forgot everything and everybody when he held her like this. To lift her up off of her feet, to carry her was no trouble at all for him. Even considering her bustle and layers of skirts. He did it with such ease and elegance, she felt as light as a feather. She has gotten used to room by now. The golden colours of the walls and the way they sparkled in the light of the grand fireplace. The position of the big bed in the centre of the room, and the way it was always messy. It all smelled like him, and reminded her of the love that had been made in here, for almost two months now. As he guided them nearer the bed, his bearded jaw was at the nape of her neck, and his lips left sweet traces down her collar. Her response was sweet and entrancing, and it made his movements hasten. "My darling.." he moaned into her skin, and as he laid her on the majestic bed, his arm went down in search of the rim of her skirts. He moved like lightning, and Violet could hardly finish a thought, before his hand and fingers were tracing up her inner thigh. Violet gasped in surprise, as his hand reached her most delicate spot. Never had she felt like this before. This had to be the meaning of life, she thought as she leaned back, and let him guide her to the point of pleasure, only he could give her. Violet had never been the type, to make much noise while making love, and indeed she hadn't when she had fulfilled her duty with her husband. But here, in the Prince's vast and isolated bed chamber, she couldn't do anything but let her pleasure be known verbally, and she chanted his name and sweet moans as he touched her._

"My Lady?" Spratt's voice brought her back to the present. "Are you ready to turn in? Only it's past midnight" he said in his usual stiff way. "Very good, Spratt" she said. Yes a good night's sleep might make her think more clearly. She was never much of a romantic, and regretting one's past was certainly not her style. Still some memories, she found, were hard to leave behind.


	3. Whatever Might Come

**Once Upon a December**

**Chapter 3**

Violet had hardly slept a wink that night. She wasn't the kind of person that usually spent much time thinking about the past, as it was usually such a waste of time. How ever, at the moment she felt as if it was all she was doing. The issue with Princess Kuragin kept hanging over her head, as a sort of breaking point for what the future might bring. But why? That was the question she kept asking herself. What would it matter? How would the death or life of the Princess change her prospects? She was the Grantham widow in the Dower House, and had done everything in her power to live up to that title. Further more, she had always thrived in her position. She had worn the crown for so long now, that the thought of suddenly taking it off, seemed completely cracked. But what seemed even more absurd to her, was that she had those kinds of thoughts at all.

A part of her knew that the reason she was so eager to find out about the Princess' whereabouts, was because it was all a part of a larger plan. A plan she hadn't quite admitted to herself yet. All she kept telling herself was that the research Shrimpie was helping her with, was a perfectly good excuse for her to keep seeing the Prince. Violet had always been the mere image of strength and status, but as she sat in front of the mirror that morning, her new maid Denker adjusting her pearls, she caught a glimpse of something in her own eyes. Sadness? Distress? Or was it hope? She could hardly read herself anymore, and that certainly was unsettling. "Is there anything else you need milady?" Denker asked and when she left the room, she left Violet sitting at her dressing table, still deep in thought. A burning urge grew within her. She had to see him again, and with the letter from Shrimpie, she would have yet another excuse. Oh well, Isobel would come to tea this afternoon, so at least she had something to occupy her mind for a little while.

…

**Igor's point of view**

He felt a pang in his chest. She would be coming soon, and his room, if he could even call it that, was such a humiliating reality, which he so hated she was going to see. He couldn't shake the hatred to the fact, that he had lost all shred of profit or worth he had of her. He had nothing to offer, and yet he wanted to offer her everything. He thought of how she had looked at him, there in the Downton library. She stood so tall and moved with the same elegance as he remembered from all those years ago. Yes, she had changed, so had he, but her posture and elegance was the same. Her hair was no longer auburn as it had been, and her face showed signs of the years that had past, but her beauty had not faded. If anything it had expanded and changed into something far more magnificent and picturesque. The memory that stayed with him, were her eyes, and the way they bore themselves into his soul, as soon as he had uttered the first words to her and she had realised that it was indeed him in the room. They were still bluer than the deepest ocean, and he had been transferred back to St. Petersburg, and the last time he had dived into them and almost drowned. They were dangerously expressive and beautiful, then and now. Even more so now, he thought. His mind replayed that moment several times, as he tried his best to make his room just a bit more representable for her, and then suddenly there she stood. Alone in his room. At first he couldn't speak. He simply looked at her. She stood with her familiar strong posture despite the cane in her hand and her face was lifted towards him. Suddenly all thoughts of their horrid surroundings disappeared from his mind, and his focus was entirely on her. He gestured for her to sit down, but didn't dare move any closer to her just yet. He wasn't sure what he might do. She placed her cane behind her and sat at the old wooden chair in front of him, waiting for him to speak. The conversation was not exactly awkward, but not easy either. He felt that they both knew they were actually having two conversations, but the one that wasn't mouthed, was the one he most wanted. And then Violet mentioned Irina. He looked down at his rosary, hesitating to admit how little he cared these days. "She's alive then?" he asked. Violet nodded and seemed suddenly nervous to him "She was alive when she left Russia, that they know. You'll know more soon". His back was turned to her, and then suddenly his courage came flowing back over him. He turned and stopped for a second to take her in. All of her, as she sat there awaiting his reaction. "I wanted you from the moment I first saw you. More than mortal man ever wanted woman", "That is an historical event". He laughed. This was just the sort of answer he could expect from her. She still had the same way of sarcastically turning a sentence to retain her facade and he couldn't help but smile at that. "Nonsense - If Irina were dead, I would ask you to run away with me now" she shifted a bit in her seat, now that he had moved himself closer to her "We can't run away, when there's no one left to run away from" she said. Her words were camouflaged by humorous undertones, but his reply made her smile stiffen; "I loved you more than I loved her. Even today. Even this afternoon" All of a sudden none of them needed to laugh anymore. It wasn't funny. He meant it, with all of his heart. He hadn't said that out loud before, not since St. Petersburg, and maybe not even then. Not as clear anyway. He watched how she had to swallow before she answered "Please don't" For a moment he thought her eyes welled up "You make us sound as if we were both unhappy and I don't believe you were and I certainly was not" she said steadfast, yet he saw right through it "You wouldn't admit it, even if it were true. You think to be unhappy in a marriage is ill-bred". He looked at her, awaiting a reaction "You do know me Igor, that I must concede" his eyes were locked with hers at that moment. The sound of his name on her lips was almost too much for him. His eyes travelled down her body, and even there in the damp room with her overcoat still on, pictures of their last secret assignation flashed through his mind, and he nodded knowingly at her. Ah yes, he knew her. In every way a man could know a woman, and even if she pretended not to, she knew exactly what he was thinking. His hands were playing restlessly with his rosary, as he kept his glare on her. "We were victims of our time, Violet" He said while leaning in to take her hands in his own. "Did you ever think of how it could have been, had things gone differently? Because I did. All the time" She said nothing, her eyes were wider than ever, moist and her lips were trembling slightly. He took this chance to stroke the back of her hand with his thumb. In some sort of comfort perhaps. He wasn't sure. "Violet" he simply said, searching her eyes, which were now fixed upon the floor. This made her chest heave strongly and her eyes shot like lightning back to his. "I never think of the past. What is the use?" she was smiling slightly, but her eyes showed remorse more than anything, and then he let go of her hands and stood. He walked back to the bed, threw his rosary on it, and just as she was about to comment on her maid waiting outside, he walked back to her hastily, ran his hand over her cheek, around her ear and into the back of her neck, then he bent down and kissed her. Very softly but still firm enough for her to be caught off guard. To his surprise she didn't protest. She didn't move a muscle. His eyes were closed as he tried to make the moment last as long as possible. Her lips were still as soft as they had been all those years ago, and when he felt her relax a bit more in his embrace he tucked at her sleeves a bit to make her stand. His arms went from her arms, around her to the small of her back, as he pressed her slightly to him, deepening the kiss just a little bit, not wanting to put her off. She still showed no sign of objection, and so he grabbed her tighter, suddenly wanting to be as close as possible to the only woman he had ever really loved. The kiss was an echoing deja-vú for them both and as his lips left hers and started their own journey along her jawline, his voice murmured next to her ear "Violet". Then suddenly it got cold and they were apart again. She looked around, avoiding his eyes and searching for her cane. "I must go" she said and he wanted to kick himself. When she stood by the door, she finally turned to him one final time "It's been 50 years Igor, and I have done everything in my power to forget you. I have been happy most of the time and lived through many things, and I have kept up a brave face for everyone around me. Please don't make me regret coming here. Because the truth is, however hard I've tried, I've never been able to forget you. Never." and just like that she was out of the door. He was left standing in the room, that now seemed even colder and lonelier than before. He stared at the closed door, and even though he was left alone, he found he was smiling to himself. She had never forgotten him, he had kissed her and she had kissed him back and her taste still lingered on his lips. He might be forced to retain himself, but he was determent to convince her. He was not going to loose her again, whatever might come.


	4. Winter in St Petersburg

**Once Upon a December **

**Chapter 4**

_**St. Petersburg 1874, The Kuragin Palace**_

Outside the winter was blazing and violent and Violet had never seen anything so beautiful. She stood in a large sitting room, decorated with large momentous portraits of people from somewhere within the Russian royal circle. There were torches all around which gave the room a warm sparkling contrast to the white and blue landscape outside. The crackling sound of the large fireplace filled Violets ears, as she stood there by the large window, letting the beauty of her surroundings hypnotise her. Then the peace was broken, as the door opened and a tall, handsome and strong figure entered. Her heart started beating almost uncontrollably, and she whipped out her fan in an attempt to hide her heaving bosom. He closed the door firmly behind her, and then he just stood there, staring at her. She felt her face redden and she curtsied deeply before him. "Your Highness" she said and he couldn't help but smile at her. She was so sweet, so correct every time he saw her. He bowed his head slightly to her and then he walked over to the sitting area by the fire "Good afternoon Lady Grantham. Please have some tea" he gestured toward the splendid display of treats that had been put out for them. She walked over to him, fighting her hesitation, and tried not to show any signs of the extreme nervousness and admiration she felt in his presence. She couldn't remember having ever felt this way in a man's company, not even when she was first courted by Patrick.

The Prince made her think and behave completely silly and she wasn't sure she liked this side of herself. Se was so used to being in control of everything, most of all her own feelings, but now.. Now she didn't have control of anything. "Thank you" she said and picked up a cup. "Have you had any news from your husband?" He asked as they both sat down "I have. He arrived in Moscow two days ago and seems to be very well. It's hard to tell exactly what he'll be doing there. He doesn't talk much about it to me" she immediately regretted reviling so much of her and Patrick's relationship, but she was glad when he simply carried on "there's not much to tell anyway. He'll probably be calling on everyone in the royal court and attending social gatherings around the clock. Are you anxious for him?" he put down his cup in front of him "Oh no. I'm sure he's alright. I'm quite used to being apart from him. As a matter of fact, I almost didn't come here. I wasn't sure about leaving the children for several months" He smiled at this and kept his eyes on her "Do you regret coming?" this made her eyes shoot back to his, and now she blushed even heavier "Certainly not" she tried to sound firm, but she couldn't hold back the smile he had brought on. "I'm very glad" he said and stood up. He walked slowly and thoughtful towards the window, and fixed his eyes on the magical scenery outside "I used to think the winter in St. Petersburg was the most beautiful thing in this world.." he said, and Violet wasn't sure if he was talking to her, or to himself. "Until I attended Prince Alfred's wedding" Violet felt her heart act out again, and her hands were shaking slightly as she nervously played with the rim of her sleeve. She both feared and anticipated what he'd say next. And then he turned around and looked straight at her, but he wasn't smiling anymore, he had some sort of new expression on his face, an expression Violet had never seen before. "Do you realise how beautiful you are, Lady Grantham?" she almost choked on the tea, she wasn't even drinking anymore. "I beg your pardon, Your Highness?" then his smile returned "I'm sorry, I don't wish to offend you, but I have to say, these daily afternoon encounters we've shared since the wedding, has been the highlight of my day". Suddenly Violet felt herself regain her composure, as if the discomfort of the situation forced her strength to return. She stood and turned to him, her head lifted the way it did, when she put on the Countess act. "That's very kind, Your Highness. I'm not sure this conversation is quite appropriate though" She kept standing this way, even as he moved in closer "I'll end it right away, if you can tell me you haven't felt the same way" Suddenly he was dangerously close, and Violet's breath got caught. "I'm…" she couldn't speak. All words went from her mind, and all she could do, was to stare at his strong brow, his full beard and his burning eyes. Then he extended his hand and took hers. Through her glove she could feel the warmth of his masculine hand flow right through her arm and down her entire body. She let out a slight gasp, but didn't pull away.

He drew her hand up, and pulled at her glove while he searched her eyes for approval. She just looked at her hand, as if she was simply waiting for what he'd do next. Then he pulled it off in one quick and steady movement, and what followed left Violet breathless. He left traces of sweet kisses all along her long fingers, the palm of her hand and when he reached her slender wrist her eyes closed while she held back the moan that was forming in the debt of her throat. His eyes met hers as he closed the distance between them. His lips were now on hers. Her mind screamed at her to back away, but her body was demanding something else. She let her fingers slide through his thick black hair, and he murmured something into her mouth, which she couldn't quite make out. His hands were now at the hollow of her back, suddenly pushing her hard up against him. She let out a breathless sigh, and he kissed even deeper now. She felt the passion growing violently from the core of her abdomen, and she was almost frightened of the sensation that was flowing through her. Never had Patrick made her feel this way. He had kissed her passionately, yes, but the passion was all his and to her it always seemed like something you just had to do, before you fulfilled your duty. It was simply another duty, and when it was all over, they would sleep. This was different. This was certainly not a duty, far from it, well actually the exact opposite. But she found it was impossible for both of them to stop. He was so strong and muscular, and the way he held her was like he was meant to do so. He guided their mutual movements as if he was a puppet master, and she his puppet. He had absolute control, and she loved that. Suddenly he spoke against her cheek "What is your name, Darling?" his voice was lower than ever, even hoarse and she found her own too had dropped an octave. "Violet" she sighed into his neck. "Say it again" He kissed her hard on the lips, and when they parted she repeated "Violet". Then his hand cupped her breast while his lips were now on her collarbone "Again..", "Violet" she could hardly hold herself together now, and she felt as if she was going to explode, if he didn't just take her. "Yes.." was all he said and then he returned to her lips. This time he barely touched them. They were closer than Violet had ever been in an embrace before, their eyes were closed, and their lips touched softly before he took a step back. "Come to me tomorrow. After dinner. Here" Her face was flushed and her lips swollen and wet from his tender yet passionate kisses and all she could do was nod. A smile crept to his face "I'll see you tomorrow" he started walking towards the door, but turned towards her before he exited "Violet." Then he was gone.


	5. The Letter

**Once Upon a December **

**Chapter 5**

"I'll see you friday then Granny" Mary said and kissed Violet's cheek, before she walked out the door. Violet watched as Spratt followed her granddaughter into the hall, and then she sat and waited while the maid cleared the table for every sign of the tea they had just had. For a moment she just sat and stared at the sofa. How many times had she and Isobel been sitting here discussing things over? She didn't know, only that it had been many times and something she had gotten so used to. She had confessed to Mary how she felt about loosing Isobel to Lord Merton. She had been very truthful of course, but she hadn't confessed the whole truth. The truth was, that though she'd be very sad not to have Isobel by her side as much as she had gotten used to, Isobel wasn't the only one she was afraid of loosing now. She had gotten used to having a companion, she had told Mary, but what she hadn't said, was that she had found she actually _needed_ a companion now. She felt a need, and the need frightened her, since she had convinced herself since her husband's death, that she would be able to manage just fine on her own. The death of Patrick had been devastating of course, and she had been at his bedside in all the weeks he had been ill. She had held his hand as he slipped away from life, and even though he was too weak to speak, he had told her how much he loved her, by squeezing her hand weakly before he was gone. Violet had not cried then. She had looked at the doctor, who had taken his pulse and confirmed his demise with a solemn nod. Then the family was there. Robert had wiped away a single tear, Rosamund had sobbed silently, her being the closest to her father, but Violet had been the mere image of strength. Until she was finally alone in her bedroom that night. Patrick was gone, and the bed was almost icy to get in to. She had extended her hand to touch his pillow, and as she caught a glimpse of the photo on his bed stand, the picture of them together at Robert and Cora's wedding, she finally let the tears flow. She wasn't hysterical, no she wasn't exactly sobbing, but never the less, tears were falling silent and steadily down her cheeks, and she felt her chest tighten with feelings of loss, sorrow and regret. She knew Patrick loved her, and that he had forgiven her many years ago, but the discovery of the love that she had shared with another man had cast a shadow over their marriage, which never went away, even though he kept telling her, that it was all behind them. She knew better, and that first night she was alone, she felt so bitter regret. She regretted she let her guards down, she regretted she let herself love another so deeply, she regretted the pain it had caused Patrick, but most of all she regretted, that even this night when her dear husband had just passed away, she still couldn't forget the love she left behind in Russia, and how even after all these years, he still claimed her heart much more, than her husband of 30 years.

A knock came to the door and Violet was awakened from her daydream. "Come in" she said and Spratt entered with a silver plate containing a letter. "This came for you just now, Milady", "Thank you Spratt" she picked up the letter and when Spratt had left, she tore it open with Patrick's paperknife. Her heart skipped a beat as soon as she saw the handwriting, which was of course a quite familiar feeling.

_My Dearest Violet,_

_I'm sorry if I shocked you at our last meeting. I hope I haven't created a distance between us, but I found I couldn't help myself. It seems so strange to be alone with you and to be so formal. Heaven knows, the last time we were alone, there were no formalities between us. Please believe me, I didn't want to bring up the past between us, if I didn't suspect you too were thinking about it. What went on between us in the past is impossible for me to leave behind Violet, and it has been ever since you left me that morning in St. Petersburg. You took my heart with you, and it seems you still have it. You told me last time, that I knew you, and you are right. I dare say I know you better than anyone, and I certainly knew you better than your husband. I can't say how you've been the past 50 years, but what I can see now, is someone who is not content, and my dearest Violet, I want you to be. That's all I've ever wanted. There once was a time where only I was allowed to hear your laughter, touch your cheek and kiss your lips, and that time was the happiest of my life. It's true what I told you, I have often thought of how it would have been, if you hadn't backed out. How deliriously happy we could have been. But I won't go on, I know how you hate regretting the past, and you are quite right, there is no use. We both went on with our lives, and at least it seems you've not been unhappy in your life here. You have a beautiful family who loves and respects you. That is more than I can say. What I'm trying to say is, that I don't blame you for the decision you made, all I wish is for you to look forward, not in regret but in hope. Remember, you and I are strong people Violet. We always have been and will continue to be so. If you will allow me, I will call on you friday next, I feel a letter is far from enough to explain my notion. I only ask you not to regret, and to be well until we meet again._

_Igor_

Violet folded the paper in her hand and brought it to her chest. Of course he was right, she knew that, but she felt herself get slightly angry. Here he came, waltzing back into her life, giving her no time to prepare at all. She found it harder and harder to hold op her guards, and what was even worse was, that she wasn't sure she wanted to anymore. Not for him anyway. She found herself with the same strange and unsettling sensation he had brought her the very first time he had confessed his love for her. The confusion and yet a burning realisation, that she could not resist him. She fanned the letter at her flushed face a few times, and then suddenly Denker entered the room. Violet almost jumped at the maid's entrance "Oh! What now Denker?" she sighed slightly annoyed. Denker stopped and noticed the letter her employer folded and hid away in her hands a bit too quickly. "I'm sorry to disturb you milady, but I wish you'd talk to Spratt. He's creating quite the commotion downstairs, and he refuses to cooperate when…" Violet held up her hand to stop her from speaking "Denker. Nothing I could say would change Spratt's disposition. If that was the case, he would have changed his tune long ago." Denker simply rolled her eyes and left without another word, and Violet shook her head. This was perhaps going to be even more exhausting than she had first expected.


	6. This Must Be Heaven

**Once Upon a December **

**Chapter 6**

_**St. Petersburg 1874, The Kuragin Palace**_

Her maid stood behind her, fixing her braid in silence, and Violet couldn't help admire the glow the Russian night seemed to give her face. She smiled to herself in the mirror and caught her maids eyes in the mirror "Thank you Lily, that's fine" she said and pulled the braid to the side. "Will that be all Your Ladyship?", "I think so yes. Have you put out the clothes for tomorrow?" the maid nodded and bowed her head before she left the room. Lily had been with Violet ever since she married, and even though she was terribly shy, she did a wonderful job, and these days it was particular important to Violet, that she looked her best. Now here she was in front of her dressing table, in her night gown, her hair let down and ready for bed. Only it wasn't this bed she was planning on sleeping in, but of course she hadn't told Lily that. She got up, and put on her dressing gown, which she had taken off only 10 minutes before, so as to not make Lily suspect anything. Then she gently opened the door and was careful to close it only in a tiny click. She tiptoed down the large and dark corridor, which led to the men's rooms. She of course was searching one in particular. As she made her way down the cold floor on her bare feet, she thanked the Lord the Russians did these things different from back home. The staff let the family alone as soon as they had said goodnight, and if the Russian servants did happen to see you outside of your room after the lights had been turned out, they completely ignored you. Igor had laughed at her, when she had told him how frightened she had been, when she had almost bumped into a servant the night before. "My Darling, you are so deliciously naive. Maybe you don't do this in England, but here the only ones never sharing a bedroom is the husband and wife. What I mean is, I don't think the servants care wether or not I have a mistress, at any rate, they wouldn't dare have an opinion on it!" Violet had been quite chocked at that realisation and equally so by the sound of the word mistress. Was that what she was? She shook that thought, and couldn't help to feel relieved by his words. Then her only problem would be Lily, and of course Patrick, but he still had almost two months left in Moscow. And anyway, she didn't want to think about that.

The clock in the hall struck 1 so she was right on time. She had to go through several private rooms, libraries and sitting rooms, where nobody but Igor entered, before she arrived at his bedroom door. She realised she had almost been running, so she stopped for a moment to catch her breath before she knocked gently. "Enter" she heard from behind it, and so she did. The door closed behind her, and he was standing, waiting there by the foot of his large and imperious bed. They didn't say anything. This was the second time she was in this room, and she already felt completely at home. It was him, everything in there was him. Their eyes locked and as if they had rehearsed it, they both practically ran towards each other. Violet threw herself desperately into his arms, his hands already messing up her hair while his nose was taking in it's sweet scent. "Darling!" He panted in her ear, and she turned to kiss him hungrily on the mouth. Never had she felt passion like this before. She felt as if she was simply not whole without him, and she couldn't get close enough when they were finally together. For the first time, it was Violet who pressed herself against him, and it was she who opened her mouth to him, and chanted his name in his mouth. Everything went fast. They were like impatient children not wanting to wait for their present, and they unwrapped it hastily and clumsy. Violet felt as if he was floating when he touched her, when he lifted her naked form from the floor and placed her on the bed, when he kissed every part of her and indeed when he finally made love to her. For the first time, she suspected she might have become religious. If God and Heaven is real, she thought, this must be it.

As much as Violet loved their lovemaking, and the way he had brought out sides in her, she didn't even know she had, her favourite moments with him was now. Afterwards. When they laid snuggled up agains each other, their legs tangled together and both as naked as could be. This was her favourite time. He had his strong arm around her, and sometimes she would turn her head and kiss it tenderly. She had her hand on his chest, stroking it up and down, taking in his looks and his scent. She didn't even bother being self conscious about their nakedness, in fact she had never felt more free or alive. It almost seemed wrong not to be naked with him. She felt her body belonged to him anyway. She was his, fully and completely. They stayed that way for a long time without speaking, simply enjoying each other. Violet glanced at the clock by the wall, it was almost half past 5 in the morning, and she stretched out lazily in his embrace. "It's time to go" she yawned and started to sit. He followed her and sat behind her, leaving kisses down her naked spine as she sat on the edge of the bed. "Will you come tomorrow?" he murmured against her skin. "What do you think?" she answered back quite sarcastically. "He laughed at turned her around, kissing her passionately once again. "Good" he murmured. She let out a loud sigh "Oh God, I wish I could stay. I wish we would never have to get up, I hate this". He started kissing her bare freckled shoulder, brushing away her red curls as he did "then stay" he said, and she took his face in her hands, looking into his dark eyes. "You know I can't. Lily will come to wake me in half an hour", "Let her wait" he answered and planted a soft kiss on her parted lips. She smiled patiently at him "You really don't know the English way, do you?" she kissed him one last time, and then started to get dressed. Before they parted, she went to his bedside and bent down to give him a final kiss "I'll see you soon" she said, and then she left. She tiptoed back through the many private chambers, through the long hallway, and when she was finally back in her own room, she threw her dressing gown on the chair, jump into bed, laid her head on her pillow and closed her eyes. Only a few minutes later, she heard Lily's voice "Good morning Your Ladyship. I trust you've had a pleasant night?" Violet faked a yawn "Thank you Lily. I've had a glorious night!"


	7. As a Friend As a Lover

**Once Upon a December **

**Chapter 7**

Denker left Violet sitting in bed flustered and confused. He was downstairs waiting for her, and not only did her heart race in her chest once more, but her mind was spinning like mad. She had to get dressed! She felt like a school girl, anxious and nervous about meeting her sweetheart and wanting to look her absolute best for him. She had known he would be calling on her today of course, but hadn't expected him so early in the morning. She didn't know of course, that he had been just as anxious about seeing her again. Violet got up and started undoing her night gown before Denker would return with the day dress. She had sent Denker a stern look, when she had looked at her in that suggesting way, but in fact she had thought it quite a relief that Denker had smelled the coffee, even though she hadn't said it out loud. It made things a bit easier, even if Violet didn't intent for her to know any more. As she buttoned down her night dress, thoughts of the past crept back to her mind once again. She thought of the time, when he was the one undressing her and releasing her from the restrains of her tights corset. She blushed by the thought. How young she had been, how young and well put together. God knows, she didn't look the same today, and no corset could bring back the slender figure or smoothness of her skin, yet when she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, se turned to her side, and let her hands slide down over her own body. She smiled and shook her head slightly, she was surely too old to admire herself like that, especially when what met her eyes was not half as appealing as it had been 50 years ago. No, her body had indeed grown old, but apparently the feeling inside it wasn't at all aware of this. She felt as wanton as she had 50 years ago. Denker arrived with the dress, and when she sent her employer yet another knowing look Violet said sternly "Denker, If you wish to remain in my service, I suggest you stop those suggestive glares, and simply do your job!" she held out her wrist to her, and Denker started undoing the buttons on the sleeves while smiling sheepishly.

Spratt walked into the Dower drawing room in his usual pout, looking at the Prince with utmost disgust. "Her Ladyship will be down shortly, Mr?.." He knew his name of course, but this was typical Spratt, and without his employer in the room, his snobbery knew no limits. "Kuragin" he answered not looking at Spratt, but out the window. This man might think himself above him now, but Igor knew who he really was, and he was not about to give into any stupid or disrespectful comments from a servant. Why Violet would have hired such an impertinent man, was beyond him, but then again, Violet wasn't one to have meek people around her. She had always been most comfortable around people who could make her tick in one way or the other. Whether she'd admit it or not. "Mr. Kuragin" Spratt almost spat the name, bowed his head almost sarcastically and walked out again. Igor laughed to himself and returned his eyes to the window. This was the first time he had ever been in her home. Her home. Not her husband's or her children's, no this was all Violet, and he felt her presence in everything his eyes fell on. It was all quite as he'd imagined, the room being very dignified and beautiful - feminine, as Violet herself. But when he looked at the garden, and noticed the many playful purple and sandy blue colours that filled it in every corner, his heart warmed immensely. The large rhododendron was waving in the soft spring air, and he smiled as the flower reminded him of a certain conversation they had once shared during one of their secret meetings. "You're rather early, don't you think?" Her voice filled his ears like liquid gold, and he turned and saw her standing at the door, definitely not looking like a woman who had just gotten up from bed. "I've always been quite the morning person" he said and send her a teasing look. She didn't answer, she simply raised an eyebrow and went to her chair as he too sat down. "I think we'll have some tea" She rung her bell, and Spratt was there right away "Tea. Thank you Spratt", "Very good My Lady" he disappeared again, and Violet placed her cane beside her chair "You must excuse Spratt, he's behaved quite like the spoiled debutant lately". He returned straight away with the tray, and when Violet announced they'd take care of it themselves, he left without another word.

With cup in hand, here they were, sitting opposite each other, alone again. It was odd. They were both aware of what was transpiring, yet both of them held there guards up, maybe the fact that they were in Violet's territory now made a difference. Igor leaned back in the sofa, looking mostly at his hands while looking like he belonged alright. Violet of course sat straighter than ever, hands in lap, looking rather searchingly at her former lover. "So you got my letter" he said, still not facing her. "Yes", "I meant every word you know, I don't wish to disrupt your life, but.." Violet put out her hand, they way she did when interrupting someone; "never the less…" Igor however would take none of that; "- I think you've gathered by now, that I haven't let go of my old feelings for you" Violet stood, forgetting all about her cane and walked back and forth in front of the fireplace. She place one hand at the mantelpiece and stared into the flames; "It's been so long, Igor. We are hardly the same people anymore," she turned to face him; "For goodness sake, we're both older than Methuselah! What in God's name did you have in mind?". He looked at her, his face suddenly steady and stern and he suddenly resembled himself as the young man she had once loved. "We had a plan once. A plan to run away from it all and be happy. Have you forgotten that?" she shook her head "Of course not, but..", "Fate brought me here, Violet. I feel as if this horrible thing I've been through was all meant for me to find you at last. Don't you see? We've been given a second chance!". She wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry at this. She was more confused than anything, and it annoyed her enormously that he didn't see the sense she did "This is madness! I've had my life here and you with the Princess. You've been driven out of your life and country, I refuse to believe you've thought of me all this time, as much as you claim!". He sat back even further now, crossed his legs and to Violet he looked almost amused. Far too calm for this conversation. "You said yourself that we're old. This is our last chance of real happiness, Violet. I know it, and I know you do to. Even if you won't admit it" his calmness was getting on her nerves, but then again, she had always been good at facing people head on, so she simply copied his calmness and looked straight at him. "What exactly are you saying, Igor? I hope you know, that I have certain standards to live up to, and that scandal is not something I desire in any way. I am bound by my status, maybe not in the same way as I was, but never the less, I am. The world may be going mad, but I don't intend to join it. And anyway, I don't know what you mean by 'our last chance'? We left any chance we had behind us, many years ago!". He returned his eyes to his hands, fumbling with his fingers, now he didn't have his rosary. "I refuse to believe that!", "And what about the Princess?" Violet found she was almost sounding angry, yet what she was feeling was quite different from anger. Was it confusion, fright or maybe..hope? She wasn't sure. "They haven't found her yet" he stood and walked back to the window, "Are you proposing to divorce?" Violet's voice was filled with shock now. Except for Shrimpie and Susan, she had never personally been confronted with divorce. Well, except for that time 50 years ago, when she had almost done it herself, but she preferred not to acknowledge that. Then he suddenly changed his tune, turned to her and with the wit she had so loved him for in the past, he said "Why? Do you want more children?" He smiled sheepishly at her, and she too couldn't keep back the slight amusement that showed on her lips. Yet at the same time, the words entered her mind as a sort of confirmation of what he hadn't quite confessed yet. 'Do you want more children?' obviously he was being witty, but what was hidden underneath the words, were far from funny. Then he turned serious again "I want to spend my final years with you" He turned and looked into those deep blue eyes of her's "As a friend. As a lover!" she could hardly breath now. She had to clutch her chest, and in the absence of her cane, she had to hold onto the edge of her chair as she sat down in complete chock. She hadn't expected him to be so forward in such a nonchalant way. Of course she knew, from his former declarations, that he must have wanted that, but to hear him actually speak the words. How long had it been since she had been someones lover. Not since Igor Kuragin, she thought. Not really. "The last years have been ugly. I don't want what remains to be ugly" Her thoughts were flying through her head, and she was reminded of how she had only been able to nod, back when he had first invited her to his private rooms 50 years ago. "No" she simply said. He sat down opposite her and took her hand "So? What do you say?".


	8. Leave It To Me

**Once Upon a December **

**Chapter 8**

"You want an answer just like that?" she was in chock. She could hardly believe they were having this conversation, yet the fact that he was here, in front of her, practically on his knees, proposing to resurrect their former love affair, left her feeling as warm inside as it made her scared. "I know my old feelings. You do too", "well, I can't make a decision now!" her voice had started shaking slightly, showing signs of the nerves tightening in her core. "I won't change" he sat back, and looked at her with his usual steadfast manner. "Don't proclaim your intransigence as if it were a virtue" he sent her a knowing smile and shook his head at her. This whole situation had left Violet quite flabbergasted. All she could do was smile at him. This man was indeed mad! "Very well. Don't answer now" suddenly he stood, and brushed his jacket as if he was about to leave. Violet sprang to her feet without thinking, not wanting him to leave her alone now, with this to think about. She started reaching out to him, but stopped herself. "I.. I shall have to think about it" she said hesitatingly. "Of course" he said moving in closer. She kept her eyes on the floor, afraid of meeting his wanting gaze. "I remember a time where I didn't have to persuade you to do anything. A time where all I had to do was to kiss you, and you would follow my lead" He bent his head slightly to hers. He was only inches from her face, which had now turned a burning shade of red. When she finally lifted her head and met his eyes, it was as if her insides melted, and the walls she so carefully had built up came crackling down. "think of the scandal" she breathed helplessly "the last time we let that worry control us, we lost each other. I wont let that happen again" then he kissed her. It was tender and slow and Violet felt herself relax suddenly. She knew what he was suggesting was going to be far from easy, probably quite impossible, but he had this knack - perhaps it was that deep and smooth voice of his, but he managed to reassure her. He made every scare and every worry fly away like smoke.

Here she was, in her own drawing room, kissing a man that was not her husband, a refugee for that matter! The realisation that either Spratt or Denker could walk in at any moment sprung to her mind and she pulled away. "I can't see how this could ever work" she said her eyes tearing up "What have we to loose Violet?", for the first time since Sibyl's death she let herself cry. A single tear rolled silently down her cheek and he reached out to wipe it gently away with his thumb. "My dearest, leave it to me. As I said, I don't seek scandal. But tell me first, do you want this? Do you still love me?" Violet smiled through her glistening eyes, how could she lie to this man. He didn't need an answer, because he knew just as well as she had always done, that he had always been the love of her life. She had spent most of her life trying to forget, trying to tell herself that it hadn't meant anything, but she hadn't been able to convince herself. Her answer was weak and almost non verbal, but he heard it clear enough "Of course I do" he took her hand in his and kissed the tips of her slender fingers "Very well my Darling. You will ask me to dinner tonight, during which I will fall ill, you will have to let me borrow your guest bedroom for the night, and then you let me take care of the rest" She couldn't help but laugh at the idea. It sounded so familiar in her ears, and she felt 22 again. "That's all very well.." she laughed and then suddenly stopped and looked at him sadly "but you can't very well fall ill here every night" the tears returned to her eyes now, and he pulled her close to him and put his arms around her "I will think of something, my love. I'll think of something" and then his lips were on her's again. This time more demanding. As they parted and Igor straightened himself up a bit, before getting ready to leave, she sought out his hand one last time "I need your word, this won't slip out" he smiled at her in return "Trust me" he said, and she did.

…

"Spratt! Give Prince Kuragin some more wine!" she was beginning to loose her temper with him. He made a vague 'hmf'-sound by the sound of the word 'Prince', filled up his glass but never looked at him. "Thank you Spratt, I think that'll do for now.." she was interrupted by the sound of a loud thump, and Igor's deep cry in pain. He turned in his chair, clutched his knee and spat out what sounded like a stream of Russian profanities. "Oh dear, what ever is the matter?" Violet stood and rushed around the table. Igor was indeed a very convincing actor, she thought. "I'm sorry Lady Grantham. I have an old injury, do you think I could lie down? It will probably be gone in a few hours" Violet looked at Spratt, who's eyes had widened to twice their size. "Of course! Spratt! Will you help The Prince to the guest room. We can't have him sitting here on this hard furniture!" Spratt looked as if somebody had poured ice water over him and his jaw was hanging by his knees. "I'm not sure.." he started protesting but Violet raised her voice now "Take him upstairs, Spratt!" he nodded without saying another word and went to help Igor off the chair. Igor played along brilliantly, moaning and squinting in pain as he walked next to Spratt, and Violet found it hard to keep a straight face. "Oh and Spratt! I think I'll turn in now as well. I didn't realise how late it was. Will you tell Denker?", "Very good My Lady" he said as he walked up the stairs with her Prince under his arm. Violet had to let out a small laugh when they were finally out of sight. This was so typical Igor, he would have acted the exact same way 50 years ago, and she loved how he just made up his mind about something and then carried it through. Something she herself always had been too self conscious to do.

Denker had of course asked her about the overnight guest staying in the next room, but Violet had quite firmly told her that there was no need to ask inappropriate questions. She couldn't very well send her old friend, a now impoverished refugee back to a cold and damp room in the slums of York, when he was this weak. Denker had merely nodded and smiled cheekily at her in the mirror, she probably hadn't bought it, but as long as she kept her thoughts to herself, Violet almost didn't care anymore. She was finally alone. The house was completely quiet, and Violet stood by her window, wondering if it was possible to die of nerves and anticipation. She fumbled with her fingers, trying to calm her nerves, when she suddenly noticed her ring. Her wedding ring was glistening back to her from her hand, as she was about to do something she had never done before - take it off. Oddly enough it didn't feel like the betrayal she had expected. The memories and emotions that were connected to this piece of jewellery had nothing to do with the feelings she had for Igor. They weren't made less nor more valuable from the fact that she took it off. She held it for a moment in her palm and then she placed it in her jewellery box on the dressing table. She had hardly turned around before she heard the door click open, and without making a single sound, he slid into her room and locked the door behind him.


	9. Thank God for Short Winter Days

**Once Upon a December **

**Chapter 9**

_**St. Petersburg 1874 - The Kuragin Palace**_

Violet counted in her head. "27, 28, 29, 30.." 30 days had she been here. That would make it her fifth week in St. Petersburg, and her second as his lover. He of course, had used the word mistress, which had left her in a state of shock. Her toes curled at the word, but never the less, that was the reality and even if the word felt like daggers in her heart it wasn't enough to make her regret her actions. It might have done before, but not now. She couldn't deny her own emotions anymore - they had become too intense, too deep, too true. If anyone had told her a month ago that she would one day end up in an other man's bed, and a married one for that, she would have laughed in their face, or more likely slapped them across it. She never in her wildest imagination thought she could fall in love like this with an other man, in any man for that matter. She had been told by her mama that she was in love with Patrick, and she had believed her of course, since she had never been in love before. She had been convinced that being with a man who could make you smile, who would kiss you every or most nights, take you to bed on occasions and call you his wife, meant that you were in love with him. She had always had a hard time uttering that word "love", it sounded so awkward when coming from her lips and she had only said it to Patrick when he had taken her to bed and said it himself. But it wasn't until she had been with Igor that she had truly understood the meaning of the word. Up until he had kissed her and gently made love to her that first night, the word had been a lie she frequently had to tell. Now she found it hard and almost impossible not to shout it out loud when she was with him. Even the thought of it, as she sat by the desk, made her blood race.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a scrawny figure entering her room. It was one of the several butlers of the palace (they did indeed do things differently here), who came with a small stack of letters in his hand. "These have been delivered for you, Lady Grantham" he said in a thick accent and handed her the letters. "Thank you…?" "Grodonisjovski" Violet's eyes shot wide open as she tried not to burst out laughing at the ridiculously long name. She managed to contain her self, but didn't try to repeat the name "Very well, you may go". He left the room after a stern bow, and she giggled to herself when she was once again alone. She had never been prone to laughter easily, but that too had changed lately somehow. Strange, she thought. She opened the first letter. It was from Patrick and not very long.

_My Dearest Violet_

_My first month in Moscow have proved quite satisfactory. The culture here is to my surprise very different from that in St. Petersburg. When we haven't attended the duties of the household, we've been on quite a few tours around the city. How I wish I could have shared some of this beauty with you Violet. I'm sure you would have appreciated it. I hope you are not too discontented at the palace and that you've at least found some comfort in the rest of the English company. Surely you've spent some time with them, and perhaps with the Princess herself. Be sure to send them my regards. Be safe and patient until I return._

_Your affectionate husband,_

_Patrick._

Violet folded the letter and put it in the desk drawer. It hadn't awoken any grand emotions of longing on her side, and the way it was written suggested, that it hadn't been written with it either. She sighed heavily. Deep down she felt ashamed that she wasn't missing him more, however the relationship they had, was never a deep-felt one. She was fond of him, of course, and he of her she suspected. But sometimes she wondered, if he would really care much if he knew who she was really spending time with here. As long as no body else would. She shook that thought, she was surely loosing her mind. She turned her attention to the second letter, which was actually more of a note. The handwriting was as harsh and linear as the person it belonged to:

_Dear Lady Grantham_

_I hope you'll attend tonight's festive gathering with the rest of the household's wives. I'll expect your reply by teatime._

_HHP Irina Kuragin _

This was just what she needed. A dinner with all of the dull English wives and the person whom she found harder and harder to look in the eye. She had to attend of course, she was as important here and Patrick was in Moscow. Well, to Patrick anyway. She wrote a short reply right away, so she could hand it to "What's his name" later.

The last letter was longer. It had no addressing or name on it, except her's which was written formal of course, but as beautiful and masculine as the owner of it's hand. She felt her breath catch once more as she opened it and started to read:

_My Love, Violet_

_I wish I wouldn't have to write you like this, but alas I can't call on you in the sunlight. How grateful I am of the short winter's days of Russia. I suspect you've heard from Irina by now. She told me she would be writing to you, and I am both thrilled at the thought at seeing you tonight and saddens by the fact, that I cannot greet you how I usually do. It shall be a night of torture not to be able to touch you. But we must be patient, my love. The night is not too far away, and I'm counting every second till I'll be able to make love to you again. I have never had the need for a woman like this before, Violet. It's not just that I want you more than anything, because that too is true. No, I need you. Every minute of my existence. Come to me as fast as you can tonight my love, I'll be waiting._

_Forever your's_

_Igor_

Violet suddenly felt a burning feeling underneath her many petticoats, and it grew even stronger as she reread the letter. She had to shift a little in her chair, but the feeling didn't go away. She had never felt such strong sexual desires before, and she damned her circumstances softly to herself. Tonights dinner would indeed be torture, she thought, but she was going to have dinner with him, in the same room, in front of everybody and she couldn't quite shake the feeling of pride it brought her. Nobody would know of course, but they would, and it would be enough. They would know they were each other's. She rang her bell and Grodosi… "what's his name" entered. "Lady Grantham" he said and bowed "Yes, will you deliver this to the Princess please", "Da" was all he answered and Violet was astonished by his lack of manners. It was certainly not usual that the servants would speak Russian to her and then without addressing her by her title. She chose to ignore it, but as he exited she caught him giving her a funny look. She wasn't quite sure how to make it out, but it seemed like a mixture of disbelief and disgust. How very rude, she thought and then returned to her desk. Perhaps she'd better conduct a reply for Patrick. He would surely be expecting that.


	10. I See Only You

**Once Upon a December **

**Chapter 10**

_**St. Petersburg 1874, The Kuragin Palace**_

The dining room was splendid of course and not at all like the one at Downton. It was first of all twice as big and much darker. The table was much longer and Violet suspected they were more than 50 people around it, which was probably an exaggeration. She had been seated between Lord Hudson and a Russian man, whom to her horror didn't speak a word of English. Igor was at the other end next to his wife and engaged in a heated discussion with someone Violet didn't recognise. While she was listening to Lord Hudson's rather boring story about his last time in Russia, she silently thanked the Lord for being seated so far from Igor. She found it impossible not occasionally to look up, and see if he was looking at her too. Thankfully the entire Russian company were talking fast and loudly across the big table, including Igor. She was indeed relieved that she wouldn't have to endure his glances all through dinner, since she would surely blow her cover and blush shamefully, yet she felt a sneaking trace of disappointment creep over her. But she shook the thought and smiled at Lord Hudson whenever he told one of his clumsy jokes. It wasn't until the dessert, that she felt his eyes burning her skin. Just as she was sipping her sherry did her eyes meet his. It was as if everything around them stopped. All of the talking, the laughing, the movements - they were alone in that moment as time stopped, and he looked at her intensely through his dark eyes. None of them were moving, afraid of ending their secret moment too soon. Irina's laughter brought them back to reality. The dinner was over, people started to get up and Irina suggested the'd all go to the music room. His eyes was still locked with her's as she followed the others and walked past him by the door. As soon as she was out of the room, she collected herself and took a deep breath. This was going to be a long night, if she kept up this foolish behaviour.

Violet wasn't used to this. She had of course been used to grand balls and receptions, but these dinner parties were quite different from what she was used to. The music room was almost as big as the ballroom at the Winter Palace, there was a band and people were dancing as though they were celebration something extraordinary. It wasn't that she disapproved exactly, more that she didn't understand. The english wives who's husbands were in Moscow were all gathered in one corner, waving their fans like mad and occasionally gossiping behind it. Violet was with them of course, and spent most of the night turning down various Dukes and Counts who asked her to dance. She didn't feel like dancing, it seemed quite wrong with her husband away, but it clearly didn't stand well with the Russians. They seemed almost shocked that she would refuse them, and in the end Violet felt she had to make her presence on the dance floor. She danced with Count Rostov first, him being one of the few Russians who spoke a bit of english. Then Lord Hudson, and a couple of Russians she didn't know. The wine had started to take affect on her mind. The dance floor started to twirl a bit even when she wasn't dancing, and she surprised herself by laughing out loud at one of Lord Hudson's jokes, which weren't even that funny. The last dance of the night was a somewhat slower waltz than the previous, or perhaps it was just her mind which had slowed down. She was sitting with the english company again, catching her breath and giving herself a few waves with the fan he had given her that first night. She had almost forgotten her previous nerves about the night, when he suddenly stood right before her, extending his arm. "May I have this dance, Lady Grantham?" she looked up at him, and his eyes lit up. "Thank you, your Highness" she answered and took his arm. As they strode onto the floor mingling with the other couples dancing, the english wives behind them folded out their fans once more, and started whispering eagerly behind them. But neither Violet or Igor noticed this, nor did they notice Irina watching them from afar. They saw only each other as they started waltzing to the music. Violet felt so secure, so supported in his strong arms, and every step was so easy. He had said something to her in that moment. Something that made her smile, and then laugh. The wine had certainly gone to her head, because otherwise she would have noticed Irina whispering with that impertinent butler who's name she couldn't pronounce. No, she saw only Igor.

…

She reached her arms out, attempting to grab hold of something solid, anything to prevent her from levitating, to float away from earth, away from him. His grip on her waist was tight, almost painful, yet she felt no pain in this moment. They moved like one, rhythmically and firm. She finally reached the headboard, gripping it till her knuckles turned white, and his one hand came to rest on her bare breast, supporting it as they increased their tempo. As his breaths grew shorter and louder, she felt herself reach the point of ecstasy she had ever only felt with him. He said nothing now, no he was in a trance, physically inside of her, but mentally as well. His eyes bore into her's until she finally couldn't hold it back anymore. Her panting ended in a loud and almost desperate "Yes!" that echoed through the large bedroom. And then she collapsed on top of him. For many minutes they simply laid like that, catching their breaths, Igor stroking her hair which cascaded down her sculptural back. Then he started to stir, trying to change his position so they would lie next to each other, but she stopped him "No! Stay a little longer. Please" he smiled warmly up at her, drawing in her face and kissing her tenderly. "I love you" he said, holding her face between his large hands. And then she rolled off of him, settling herself in his arm. "Yes. This is love, isn't it?" she asked, perhaps herself more than him and he traced her body with his free hand "This is the greatest love I have ever.. I ever will have" then he kissed her again, and she snuggled up against him. It was 5 o'clock, so they couldn't sleep. She would soon have to go, but neither wanted these nights to end. They stayed together till the very last minute, and when she left she felt her legs buckle slightly underneath her. She had never been happier, yet deep down a burning fear was growing, of the day she would have to come to terms with the situation. Even if she tried desperately to ignore it, she knew there was no easy or happy ending to all of this, but as she entered her own room, she decided to stay deliriously happy a little while longer. After all, Patrick still had over a month in Moscow, and that was an eternity. Or at least that's what she tried to convince herself of.


	11. But Then He Found Her

**Once Upon a December**

**Chapter 11**

Outside the window the station man were loading the last suitcases onto the train and the people on the platform were waving with grand enthusiasm as the train finally started moving. Violet kept her eyes on the scenery outside, as Edith was going on endlessly about Marigold. There wasn't much conversation going on in their carriage, as everyone seemed deep in their own thoughts. Violet felt an overwhelming urge to close her eyes, but knew that if she did she would fall asleep, and she wasn't about to be one of those grandmothers. She hadn't got much sleep the night before, but nobody knew that of course. A tiny smile crept to her face as she thought back on the night, which was the first night in almost 30 years she hadn't spent alone. She thought of how he had slipped into her room and closed the door gently behind him. He had approached her with determination and touched her waist, all the while she hadn't dared to move an inch. He had kissed her softly, as if trying not to hurt her. She had finally overcome her restrictions and had reached up to touch his cheek and he had deepened the kiss. Everything from there was haze of images floating through Violet's memory. Images of bodies moving desperately against each other, of breaths growing faster and names being sighed into ears. She remembered how he had pushed her gently back onto the bed, all the while kissing her and when she had objected slightly, letting the aching of her hip be known, he had traced his kisses downwards, in order to let her know he would take care of her. He knew what her every moan meant, and saw to it, that the night would be as special to her as it was to him. And it had indeed been special to both of them. Violet let out a heavy sigh in the train and Mary shot her eyes in her direction. "What is the matter, Granny?" she asked, eyebrows raised in concern "Oh nothing. Train rides are always so tedious" Violet replied, gave her a small smile and returned her gaze out the window. She expected the journey to feel a good deal longer than usual this time, and the fact that Mary had probably noticed her flaming cheeks didn't help. The awkwardness of the situation was broken by Edith "I wonder if Nanny remembers that Marigold doesn't like eggs?" - "Oh for heaven sakes!" Mary exclaimed and Isobel sent Violet a knowing smile. The key is to divert the conversation, Violet thought to herself and finally let herself close her eyes for just a minute.

When she arrived in her room in Grantham House that night, Denker had of course already unpacked everything, and since she had been coming her for most of her life, Grantham House was now quite familiar and almost homelike to her. She pulled off her gloves and then sat down at the dressing table. Denker should be here, she thought, but the fact that she was late didn't really bother her as much as it might have done before. She looked at her reflection and blushed again. Then she took off her earrings and placed them in her jewellery box in front of her. Her mind started to wander again, she found it hard to focus her thoughts on the present, as all she could really think about was to get this wedding over with and get back home. She wondered if by home she meant Downton or if home to her had become, or had always been, his arms. She was pulled out of her thoughts as Denker entered the room "I'm so sorry I'm late My Lady" she said and headed straight for her task of undressing her mistress. "Yes, it ought not to be repeated" Violet responded not intending to let Denker know of her carelessness. Denker untied her hair carefully, neither women saying a word as she did so. When her hair was finally free of all the pins she brushed it gently, finally looking Violet in the eye in the mirror. The look that met her was unexpected "Are you quite well, My Lady?" she asked as she paused her brushing. "Quite! Why do you ask?" Violet regretted the question instantly but couldn't help anticipating Denker's response. There was something about her, maybe their shared wit, which made her wonder if she could for once talk to someone about all of this commotion. "You seemed a bit distraught for a moment. I hope the evening has been pleasant?" Violet smiled and shook her head. Perhaps she was wrong in her earlier presumptions. "Oh yes. I'm sure Lady Rose will make up for any trouble Lord Sinderby might bring. Or Lady Flintshire for that matter" She laughed slightly, relieved that for once that she and her family was out of the fire line. Denker looked at her questionably. Violet didn't quite like how, despite their short acquaintance, Denker seemed to look straight through her sarcastic facade. "This haven't got anything to do with the visit of Prince Kuragin last night, My Lady?" She started brushing again. Violet's eyes grew to twice their size and shot back to Denker. Her heart skipped several beats as the panic grew in her chest. For the first time, Denker had brought her to complete speechlessness. "I.. I'm sorry?" She wanted desperately to have a snark remark ready in return, but her mind was completely boggled. "I don't mean to be disrespectful, My Lady, but I did notice.." Violet quickly interrupted her "Then I suggest you don't say another word, Denker!". The silence that followed was almost unbearable, and Violet was sure Denker could hear her heart beating as clearly as she could feel it. Denker however, proved her most straightforward lady's maid to this day as she suddenly said "Your secret is safe with me, My Lady. All I want to say is that I don't blame any woman for listening to their emotions" then she put down the brush and took a step back. Violet was now completely speechless, her mouth open in shock as she stood and let Denker undo her buttons.

The next days of course was all about the preparation of the wedding and enough entertainment were planed to keep Violet's thoughts of Igor at bay. For the most part. While Mary, Edith and Tom had taken Rose out to dine the eve before the wedding, Isobel and Violet had finally some time to indulge in a private conversation. As they sat alone in the library Violet suddenly noticed Isobel's saddened features. "Are you still undecided Isobel?" she asked, careful not to seem prying. "I really don't know if I should fight for him. At my age, is it really worth it?" she asked, trying to seem on top of it all, yet Violet saw the dampness in her eyes, as she reached over to touch her hand. "My dear, you must do what you think best. No matter what that is.", "And you? Have you talked to the Prince lately?" Violet withdrew her hand, attempting to fiddle with her wedding ring, only to find out to her horror, that she wasn't wearing it. She had forgotten to put it on again. Isobel being as observant as always, noticed the horror in Violet's eyes and her eyes shot down to her hands. "Have you taken off your ring?" she asked, regretting the far too direct question instantly. "I'm sorry, that is of course non of my business" Violet held out her hand "Don't. I know what you're thinking. The truth is… I have forgotten it at home". Isobel's eyebrows rose sceptically. "I presume you took it off for a good reason?" Violet blushed again. She couldn't control it, she had nothing to say in her defence. "I hope we can keep this between ourselves" she answered and Isobel nodded understandingly. "I will say this. I have come to realise that I have been given a final chance of true happiness, and I have a feeling I will regret it bitterly if I let it slip by" Isobel looked at her intriguingly "And you weren't happy before?" Violet thought carefully before answering; "The happiest I've ever been, Isobel, was when I was in Russia 50 years ago." She couldn't say anymore and Isobel knew this, so she simply nodded her head and directed her gaze to the fireplace. They sat like that in silence for quite a while before they decided to retire. No matter what was to happen, Violet felt a wave of comfort flow through her when she thought of the alliance she had found in Cousin Isobel.

The wedding was of course not totally without drama, but despise Susan's outburst and the cruel prank that had almost stopped it all before it began, it had come through and the blessing afterwards was a joyous occasion. Violet had enjoyed shocking most of the guests by not being shocked at all by the controversial wedding and as the evening drew closer, she got a minute to talk to Shrimpie alone. "Aunt Violet, she's found" Violet looked at him questionably "Who's found?", "You're friend. The Russian Princess. She's on her way from Hong Kong as we speak. I can't say when she'll be arriving though, alas the travel conditions of refugees at these times are mildly speaking questionable" Violet didn't know what to say. Her mind was spinning. The Princess. She had almost forgotten she had started the search. "Aunt Violet, are you quite alright?" her eyes shot to his and she put on her deceiving smile "Yes. Thank you Shrimpie" He smiled at her, presumably proud of his achievement, and then walked away. Violet stood alone looking at the party guests happily joined in conversation, but her mind was on how she would spring this to Igor and indeed how her situation had now suddenly changed. Perhaps this was for the best, she thought. She had been living in a dream the last few days and behaved like a silly school girl. This was a firm reminder, that it was time to be realistic. The only problem was that even though she found it hard to amid this, even to herself, she preferred the dream.


End file.
